


Brat

by LokelaniRose



Series: Pet Names [1]
Category: TharnType the Series (TV), บังเอิญรัก | Love by Chance (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag Episode 3, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, That shower scene, fucking CHRIST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 17:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokelaniRose/pseuds/LokelaniRose
Summary: This doesn't need a summary: it's the shower sceneRussian Translationhere





	Brat

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in less than an hour after watching episode 3, read at your own peril.
> 
> Also, in my head I'm pretending that the whole TharnType relationship is a lot more consensual then it's currently depicted in the show. This fic is written on that wildly optimistic basis lol

Tharn pushes Type up against the wall of the shower and instantly knows he has made a very, very bad decision.

Type is a _brat_. He’s mouthy and petulant and stubborn and occasionally grossly homophobic but mostly just very irritating. He leaves crumbs on Tharn’s bed and steals his snacks and invades his privacy and basically just stomps around the place in a constant huff. He isn’t remotely like the sort of boy that Tharn is usually attracted to – pretty and demure and _willing_ is Tharn’s preferred type – and sure he’s cute but he’s not _that_ cute. Tharn genuinely can’t fathom why he feels a tug of attraction in his gut whenever he looks at the other boy.

But then he pushes Type up against the wall of the shower and feels like he’s burning up from the heat that spreads from his gut to his entire body. Tharn is hard instantly, pressing against his jeans, just from the way Type smells and the softness of his skin and the way he shivers when Tharn kisses him.

Tharn is so fucking grateful when Type pushes him back, because kissing him was shaking Tharn to his very core. Kissing Type’s trembling little mouth, feeling him _just_ start to kiss back, going soft and pliable in Tharn’s arms…

Oh fuck, he’s in trouble.

Tharn prides himself on his self-control. All his passion and intensity is saved for his music, when he’s safely behind a drum kit and can let it all out. He’s never been as irritated by anyone else as he is by Type and all his playground bullying nonsense. Something about the other boy just shakes something loose inside him, rattles at Tharn’s iron discipline until he has to grit his teeth constantly not to just – what? Kiss him? Kill him? Tharn has enough composure (and pride) to put up a front that’s all smiles and wry amusement, but really he regularly skips between one of two daydreams – twisting Type’s head off or fucking him into the ground.

(Tharn is absolutely not going to admit to the third set of daydreams, of curling up around Type when he’s cold or cheering him on at matches or bringing him home to meet Tharn’s father. Nope, no, definitely not.)

And his self-control is disintegrating further with every second he spends in this shower stall pressing kisses against Type’s neck, watching him bite his lip to stop from letting out any noises. Tharn knows he’s good in bed, likes making his partners feel good, but what he wants to do to Type goes so far beyond that it scares him a little. To distract them both he kisses further down, strokes fingers up Type’s firm thighs, and slowly lowers himself to his knees.

Tharn doesn’t do drunk people, and he doesn’t do unwilling people either. But Type is rock hard under his towel, so aroused that Tharn can see pre-come already gathering at the tip of his cock and the way his hips are moving into the air. Type wants this, and Tharn wants him. Fuck, does he want him.

Tharn’s knees do not like the floor of this shower and Tharn tells them to shut up, they’ve got more important things to deal with. Type’s hands are still clenching on his shoulders as he nuzzles in against his hips, breathing the soft warm smell of him. Type’s body is gorgeous, all firm muscle from the hours he spends running round a football pitch. Tharn carefully presses his forearm across Type’s hipbones. He may like to look at the muscle but he has no intention of letting it choke him. Then he gets to work.

The noise Type makes when Tharn gets his mouth on him is literally going to stay in his mind forever. Tharn feels his mouth watering and sinks down a little further, using his fist on the rest. Type is firm and hard in his mouth and it’s amazing, hearing the whimpers and gasps every time Tharn sucks hard or flicks his tongue against the head. He takes a breath and steels himself and then goes down as far as he can go till Type’s cock presses hot and solid against the back of his throat and Type _moans,_ broken and desperate.

“Tharn…Tharn…_oh god.”_

Tharn likes hearing his name on Type’s lips like that. He likes Type’s mouth in general, the way it opens in an outraged gasp, the way he bites at it uncertainly whenever Tharn flirts with him, the way it would look _so good_ taking Tharn’s cock…

Type’s hands are clenching on his shoulders so hard he’s going to have bruises against the bone and Tharn loves it, he wants bruises, scratches, hickeys, more, so the whole world can see how desperate Type was for him. He’s so hard it hurts just from blowing the other boy and now his imagination is running away with him, thinking about what else he could do, how easy it would be to flip Type round, stroke him hard to keep him pliant, use shampoo to open him up, slide his cock inside…

Tharn scrambles for his discipline with the last shreds of his self-control, even as his mouth keeps up a steady motion on Type’s cock, determined to get him off. He can’t, won’t touch Type like that, not right now, not yet –

(Especially not till he’s figured out what darkness lingers in Type’s head, makes him cry out at night and flinch from touches. Not till Tharn’s soothed it away and replaced it with caring)

\- but he can imagine it as much as he wants, imagine how he’s going to teach Type to love taking Tharn’s cock. He’ll start off slow and careful, making sure that Type’s first time is absolutely perfect so that every doubt he has is wiped away and then he’ll build up, getting him used to taking it hard and fast so that Tharn can have him whenever he wants, teaching him to love the burn and the stretch and the feel of come inside him. One day he’ll come back to their rooms and Type will be all lubed up already, so eager to have Tharn inside him that he got himself ready on his own, and Tharn will throw him onto a bed and fuck him blind. 

“Oh, fuck – fuck – please, Tharn,_ fuck_ –” Type’s voice is breaking up, going high and desperate and Tharn grabs his hips in both hands and shoves his mouth down. Type is shaking all over, his hips jerking as he comes and Tharn takes it. Normally he’d pull off but this time, the first time, he wants Type’s come in his mouth, wants to claim him like that.

Type is still shivering all over when Tharn carefully gets back to his feet and Tharn smiles to see how soft his little firecracker gets after a good orgasm. He can’t wait until he’s fucked Type into submission, into obedience – or at least as close as Type will get. Tharn doesn’t think he’ll ever he able to pound the brattiness out of him completely…

…but fuck, he’s going to have fun trying.

(Type’s hands are soft and tender where they’re curled against Tharn’s chest and Tharn is absolutely definitely not thinking about how much he wants to coax them open, hold Type’s hand and press kisses against his fingers. He’s not thinking about that at all, hasn’t been thinking about it for weeks.)

When Tharn is face to face with Type again he can’t help staring at the other boy, drinking in the flushed cheeks and bitten lip. He wants to kiss him again, teach Type the taste of himself in preparation for the taste of Tharn, wants to nuzzle against the embarrassed pinkness of his cheeks and leave little bites down his throat. His own cock is still throbbing in his jeans but somehow it’s a distant urge compared to the desire to drop little kisses along Type’s jawline.

Type blinks at him, still dizzy with pleasure, and Tharn can’t help his smirk.

“I told you talking wasn’t the only thing I’m good at,” he says, and it’s so worth it to watch Type’s pleasure-dazed face shift into fury, to watch him flee the bathroom and then hide under his covers like a five-year-old. Tharn’s so addicted to him that he can’t resist teasing him further, even when he gets an elbow to the ribs for his troubles. God, Type is such a little _brat._

Tharn sprawls out on his bed only a metre away and wonders how much Type would freak out if he got himself off right here. He strokes a hand over his own cock soothingly. It’s okay, he can be good and wait – he’ll just about be able to summon up the willpower if he knows the eventual rewards will be_ so much _greater.

Type is a stubborn, stroppy, mouthy little hot-head, and Tharn has never wanted anyone more.

And he intends to have him.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I have a new obsession


End file.
